Sellout
by Fictional-Feather
Summary: Love, lies, lesbians, and...price checks?: A Kingdom Hearts retelling of RENT.
1. Chapter 1

This was originally supposed to be a response to a prompt on the kink meme, but it evolved into a complete retelling in the strangest way. Ah well, it's turning out to be one of my favorite productions thus far. :3

Oh wait, you asked why it's so strange? Get this: they're all cashiers. I know, right? When I first started writing this, it was much, _much_ closer to the basic RENT plot, but I turned out to be writing most of it during my down-time at work, so it became this...weirdness. So this takes the Kingdom Hearts characters and puts them into RENT-like situations within a department store basis. Aaaaand I'm hoping it works for someone other than me.

Anyways, the contents of this are as follows (at least for this chapter): a rather disenchanted Zexion, far too many ten-second cameos, corporate dissatisfaction, angry masses, and just maybe the beginnings of a plot resembling RENT.

The rating is just K+ for now, but may go up in the future for language (and I don't even like cursing that much...huh...).

* * *

"No ma'am, the gift wrap is $3.99."

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is, I've already had to check it."

"Then take it off, I don't want it."

Only having the store's dedication to customer satisfaction relentlessly forced upon him saved Zexion from sighing audibly. Pretentious bargain-seekers with their self-righteous propensity for proving their superiority...Well, only an hour left, it always goes fast.

Christmas Eve rivaled Black Friday for busiest day of the year, but for the employees, it was worse, _so_ much worse. On Black Friday, the masses were docile by promises of the lowest prices all year, and the thought off attaining something before anyone else makes everyone feel special. A distant cousin of 'I'm unique, just like everyone else.' Plus, everyone's just glad to be done with Thanksgiving, and since the Christmas stress hasn't had time to set in, the store is polluted with general good feeling.

But Christmas Eve, everything's just chaos. Even with all the registers running, the cashiers are constantly fielding complaints about the lines. And while they're holding back sharp retorts of "Then you shouldn't have waited so long to do your shopping," the customers are ready to double-check every clearance and argue over every discrepancy. Every other person wants a price-check because with so many people in the store, anything picked up hardly stands a chance of being put back in the correct place, and by this point in the season, what's left is all haphazardly strewn on the shelves anyway.

All in all, headaches abound on the holidays.

"Zexion."

That voice...it only ever carried good news hidden under more pressure to succeed. Zexion turned his head, careful not to stop his work with his boss watching. He knew exactly what was coming, but playing innocent would at least give Roxas the pleasure of asking.

"Can you stay later?"

_Say no, say no, say no._

"Sure." That put him there until midnight.

"Great." Roxas smiled his managerial smile that always carried enough smugness to say he knew what the answer would have been anyway, because he made manager for a reason. If you tell him no, you'd better not hesitate with your excuse, because he'll be picking your alibi apart with rapid-fire questioning about why your friend can't take the bus or what symptoms your mother has until you find yourself telling him that you guess another hour won't hurt.

He should have said no...It wasn't as if Roxas could fire him for it, even with it being the middle of the rush. He'd been working there far too long to lose respect for leaving at his scheduled time.

But he'd said yes - he _always_ said yes - because he'd been telling himself to do whatever necessary to stay on his boss's good side for so long that being corporate lapdog was just habit anymore. He didn't let himself slack off because he needed the chance of a raise to be ever lingering above him. He belonged in the back anyway; he had the kind of mind well-suited for numbers.

"Hey Zex?"

He turned sharply, all traces of ill-content instantly wiped from his face and replaced with a raised-eyebrow, ready-to-please blank slate.

"Oh, hi Kairi."

He relaxed, turning back to his customer.

"Um...your line was the shortest, so the woman at the back is buying this." She tucked a small velvet box beside the register, then scampered off back to the jewelry counter. Had it been anyone else's line she probably would have stuck around for a moment, glad to be one of the few employees allowed to leave her post, but no...she'd gone immediately. Still feeling awkward about the breakup, apparently.

There really was no reason for it. They hadn't been together all that long, and they had the same communal friends at work. Then again, maybe he was reading too much into the fact that she'd left quickly. Maybe she was just busy.

"C'est la vie, man. Let her be a dyke."

"Riku!" Zexion whispered sharply, but his current customer was busy on her phone.

"I'm just saying." Riku leaned against the register, gesturing with the pack of batteries he held in one hand. "You two wouldn't have worked out anyway."

"Your optimism astounds me. Shouldn't you be working?"

"It's not optimism," Riku answered with the obvious intent to ignore Zexion's second comment. "I just tell the truth."

"Twelve nineteen." Zexion turned his attention back to his job, who had removed her phone from her ear long enough to give the wide-eyed, mouth open look that had at some point become sign language for 'Huh?'

"Just don't dwell on it for too long. I know the emo look suits-"

Riku's one-track mind was interrupted by the Voice of God summoning him back to the electronics department, sounding quite a lot like a peeved Roxas. Zexion would have allowed himself a brief moment of smug satisfaction, but Riku only laughed as he walked off, and he had to remind himself that Riku was too precious to management to worry about pissing anyone off. The proverbial golden-boy, he was, but he'd also been a friend to Zexion for too long for him to be truly jealous.

The final two hours of his shift passed in the accelerated blur that always happened during a big rush, dragged out only by customers intent on being testy. Whatever happened to holiday spirit? He weathered it out like he did with any busy day - smile more than usual, don't rush, and sound extra self-assured. With lines like that, nobody wants to wait on a price-check, and customers are more likely to believe him about prices if he sounds like he knows what he's talking about.

He wished he could have gotten Demyx's attention, to let him know they'd be getting off at the same time, but the stocker had only made appearances already busy with customers. Oh well, they'd meet up after closing.

The last customers trickled out in the sluggish fashion they always did. Zexion caught the eyes of several of his fellow cashiers as they stood poised over their registers, all following the progress of the final couple slowly making their way toward the door, where Roxas stood waiting with his carefully perfected public smile. He nodded cordially, locked the door in no hurry, and turned.

"Everyone pull!"

The registers simultaneously clamored open, receipt printers ejecting proofs of signing off. Zexion was the first to have his money bagged, sealed, and dropped off at the service desk (again enforcing his theory that his analytical mind was suited for something more), and he sidled up against Demyx, who stood waiting for the infamous 12:00, when they could both clock out.

"Thanks for staying, everyone!" Roxas was saying somewhere behind them. Tired, Zexion didn't bother answering, and Demyx looked at him sympathetically.

"At least we don't have to walk home in the snow."

Demyx could always see the bright side when he was at work. He played an upbeat, likeable man while on the clock, a side of him Zexion was glad to know existed.

The clock was definitely stuck at 11:59.

"I'm just glad to have tomorrow off."

Demyx broke into a grin, quickly punching in his number. "Merry Christmas."

So they'd reigned in the holiday standing together in the store that both stole their souls and gave them a reason to live. Same as the year before.

Merry Christmas indeed.

* * *

AAAAAANNNDDD NOW, WELCOME TO FEATHER'S CHARACTER EXPLANATION TIME!

This is where I tell how I got the inspiration for each of my character roles!

Today, we have Zexion as Mark: Always in the background, recording things. Mark with his camera, Zexion with his mind. Neither is ever really in the spotlight, but both are extremely important to the plots, putting into motion the events that move everything and everyone else. Kindof the underdog in charge.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, Zex, come sit down!"

He couldn't tell if he was more annoyed by the grating sound of Roxas' enthusiasm - whether it was real or not - or by the fact that Roxas had no clearance to be calling him 'Zex,' but he allowed him a light satisfaction that fetching his lunch meant he would not be _immediately_ doing as told.

He sat with a partially faked smile two seats away from his boss. At the rectangle table in the overcrowded break room, a chair's amount of distance in between created just the right amount of intimacy for friendly coworkers, or for boss and employee. Sitting next to one another was a right reserved for the old women who'd been working there for thirty years, or friends like himself and Demyx. Kairi would still sit next to him as well, although usually he was ignored in favor of Olette these days.

"Heard you got another hundred on your Cussat the other day," Roxas noted indifferently, eyes never leaving the television screen.

Ah, the customer satisfaction survey. Diminutively known as the 'cussat.' The saving grace of those cashiers too lazy to ask customers about credit cards, loyalty cards, and the rest of the store's cards and gimmicks. In a store that prides itself on good customer service, doing good on the Cussat is _gold_.

"That's hard to do on holidays; I'm impressed," Roxas went on.

"Well, I try." He really only spoke to be polite - he couldn't stand Roxas in manager mode. Before he'd been promoted, they'd been on pretty good terms, and he could still be tolerable in conversation, up until he started acting like everyone's boss again. He'd let the power go straight to his head.

"How's Namine?"

"She's fine. The gallery did better than expected for the holidays."

Namine has been the door-greeter. It wasn't usually a post anyone stayed at for long, but her cute face, utter persuasiveness to get people to sign up for anything, the way nobody could ignore her, and her lack of ambition had made her a shoe-in for the position. In a sickeningly romantic corporate love story, Roxas had made manager, proposed to her over the intercom, and she finally got the financial support to quit her job and follow her passion for art.

"She just got a raise, as well."

Now _there's_ a topic for discussion. Wait, first be polite.

"Tell her congratulations for me."

"Sure will."

Office politics. Fun, right?

Zexion let the news anchorman drone on for a moment.

"Speaking of raises..." Did he imagine it, or did Roxas seem to stab his overpriced microwave meal a littler harder than necessary? "Is anyone here up for one?" Like me? The one who deserves it- and probably _needs_ it - most?

Roxas hesitated, taking another bite to cover it up. "Kairi asked me about that the other day. And she's a good worker, knows her stuff, but I can't give her a raise."

"Why's that?"

He sighed. "She's too gay."

...Well...that was blunt of him.

"If she were still dating you, things would be different, but as it is now, the other employees would complain if I gave her a raise for flaunting her relationship with Olette."

Zexion was surprised to find himself actually biting his tongue to hold back protests of discrimination and how she wasn't 'flaunting' a damn thing.

"I...hadn't really noticed."

"Well I'd expect you to block her out, after how she left you."

He had nothing to say to that, suddenly feeling an intense urge to just walk away.

"Here's an idea." Roxas turned to look at him for the first time since he'd walked in. "Why don't you talk to her? You know, get her to..."

"...Act straight?" Somehow, he hid the venom in it.

"Yeah, there you go. Convince Kairi to lighten up a bit, and maybe there'll be a little something in it for you. I know how hard you work."

_Then just give me the raise. You're not allowed to openly discriminate, so you want me to do your dirty work for you and help you keep this place tailored to rich, white conservatives? That's low even for you.  
_

In some Heavenly intervention, another cashier walked in the breakroom.

"Oh, Roxas, I heard we're getting a new guy soon!"

"Yup. He's coming in for training tomorrow."

Zexion stood and left, tossing his lunch out. He'd finish his break hiding out in the garden shop. Even _Marluxia_ would be better company.

* * *

Demyx had definitely seen the guy before. He vividly remembered wanting to ask where he found hair dye that bright, but it seemed to be his natural color. Unless he re-dyed it every other week, which with a shade like that, would get expensive fast.

"Can I help you with something?"

Demyx looked away quickly, back to the cart of returns he was supposed to be unloading. "Sorry, didn't mean to stare. And that's my line."

The man chuckled, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his too-big hoodie and looking thoroughly disinterested in the rows of hardware he was facing. "It's the hair, isn't it?"

"It _does_ draw the eye." Demyx pushed the cart around the corner, and the man followed him.

"I don't really find that a bad thing, depending on who's looking."

Demyx faltered for a moment, glad he was turned away. Was this guy trying to flirt with him? They'd been speaking for less than a minute, and he was just assuming that Demyx was into guys. Not that the idea wasn't flattering, just unexpected.

"Hey, you got a light I could borrow? Bring it back, I promise."

"What, you think all stock boys carry lighters?"

"You had one last week."

Demyx laughed. "Stalking me?" Yeah, it was a little strange to think about, but not really different from Demyx recognizing the red hair and proceeding to stare at him. And the guy...well, he wasn't unattractive.

"Nah, I just have a memory for cute faces. And I figured you probably smoke if you had a lighter, and I'm dying for a cigarette."

They turned down another aisle. "Wrong. Haven't smoked in a while."

"Pity. You'd probably look real good with something in your-"

"Do you come in here a lot? I've seen you a couple times."

The man shrugged. "It's probably not just here you've seen me. It's close by work."

"Where do you work?"

"Corner of 2nd and Market."

"What?" Demyx looked over at him, noticing for the first time that his eyes were a bright enough green to rival the tone of his hair.

The man just raised his eyebrows. "Think about it."

Demyx turned away quickly as realization hit him. "You're a prostitute?"

He hadn't meant to say it so loud, but instead of the nervous glance around to see if anyone had heard, the guy laughed. "Don't flatter me. I can be a downright whore when I want to be."

Demyx shook his head, focusing on the returns instead of trying to think of a reply. It was a little funny how knowing what the man did for a living changed his perception. As if he were propositioning Demyx, or that now everyone passing by knew as well, and would see them together and think they were associated. He realized he was being shallow, what with the deplorable things he'd done in past, but those were exactly the things he was trying to get away from. Honestly, he could have told the man he had work to do and walked away, but something - the hair, the eyes, the smile - kept him there with his half-finished cart.

"What?" the man asked, probably wondering why Demyx had clammed up.

"I've just...never met a hooker before."

"Well _surprise_, we exist." He picked up a can of spray paint, shook it twice - Demyx was guilty of that as well; it was an addicting noise - and put it back. "Oh, but in case that isn't a degrading enough job, I'm in the fast food industry during the week."

"That's dangerous."

"...Yeah, I guess hot oil and a less-than-fashionable uniform can be pretty wild."

"I mean your weekend job." Demyx didn't look over to make sure the man was going to follow him this time as he moved again. He was still grateful that someone showed interest in having a conversation with him, but even though he wasn't the hugest fan of this redhead, he couldn't bring himself to tell him to leave. "There's a lot of crazy perverts out there. And you could catch something."

"Hey, I got bills to pay."

Demyx could understand _that_. Most of his income went to his meds, and Zexion pitched in a lot, too. Splitting rent and utilities between them...they were perpetually finding the cheapest ways to get the few groceries they needed.

"Anways, it's been nice talking, Demyx, but I gotta get." He'd gotten pretty good at catching the point where the eyes dropped down to read his nametag, but he hadn't noticed it this time. They guy had merely smiled and walked away.

"Hey," he called out, and was rewarded with the man stopping and turning, eyebrows raised in question.

"I don't get your name?"

A cocky grin. "Axel."

* * *

FEATHER'S CHARACTER EXPLANATION TIME, PART 2!

This time - Demyx as Roger:...um..a blond, blue-eyed musician? No, actually, for this retelling, I used the Broadway version of RENT, and that version of Roger definitely has more temper issues then the one in the movie. Compare that to Demyx's 'mood swings' and his "Silence, traitor!" and you've got the two most emotional characters of their respective 'verses.


End file.
